


heart folded over

by Quintessence



Series: bad things happen bingo requests [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Touch-Starved, give killua hugs 2kforever, killua's unhappy childhood, that's it that's the fic, touch starved!killua
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessence/pseuds/Quintessence
Summary: "No, Gon’s certain that for every gentle touch he’d received, Killua had been hurt at least a dozen times over.  For every time Gon had had his hair ruffled, Killua had no doubt retched from the pain of broken bones.  For each time Aunt Mito had given his hand a squeeze, Killua must’ve had several fingernails torn out, swift and bloody.  It leaves such a painful, gaping wound in Gon’s chest, to imagine that Killua only ever knew touch as something that hurt."Gon comes to a sudden realization about Killua's childhood and, predictably, takes it upon himself to do something about it.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Series: bad things happen bingo requests [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653457
Comments: 76
Kudos: 1084





	heart folded over

**Author's Note:**

> i decided to do that "bad things happen bingo" i've been seeing floating around my dash!!!!! this is avtorsola's request of touch starved killugon. this ended up being a bit more fluff things happening than bad things, but it still gets a bit angsty at parts!!!
> 
> long time readers will remember the 13k touch starved todoroki fic i wrote back in my big bnha days that kinda blew up. it was honestly a challenge to find something new to say on the topic without ending up copying myself, but i hope i managed to pull it off!!!!!
> 
> title is from ode to magic by bob hicok
> 
> hope you enjoy!!!!!

It starts, as these things often do, from somewhere unexpected.

It starts with Leorio and Gon out to lunch, catching up over plates piled high with eggs and toast and potatoes, because Gon is of the belief that breakfast food shouldn’t be confined solely to a few early hours of the day. It starts with Leorio regaling Gon with stories from his Yorknew clinic, stories of the triumphant recoveries and the successful diagnoses and the grateful families. And of the other times, too, the times when things don’t all go according to plan, the times when you try your damndest and still come up short. It starts with Leorio’s eyes lit up bright and eager as he explains to Gon how a baby that shouldn’t have made it through a week just celebrated his first birthday.

“I don’t think I got more than four hours of sleep any one night for an entire week. We were up pretty much round the clock. The necrosis was spreading through the entire colon, and every so often the gas would accumulate in his abdomen so much that it would press up on his heart and the monitor would go flat. Babies don’t have a lot of space in their torsos, so things like that will happen. I about had a heart attack every time it happened.”

Gon nods, eyes wide, enraptured.

“But Elino’s doing so well now. His mom sent me a video of his first steps and I won’t lie to you, Gon. I just watched it over and over bawled my goddamn eyes out. The antibiotics somehow did the trick, and he pulled through. And between the kangaroo care and the steroid treatment and the supplemental nutrition, he’s doing just fine. You’d never know how touch and go things were for that first week looking at him now.”

Gon can’t help but beam.

“That’s amazing, Leorio. Really. I don’t even know him, but I want to send him a birthday card or something, just to say how happy I am he’s okay.” Gon laughs. “Just hearing myself say it, it sounds a little strange, but it’s true.”

Leorio shakes his head.

“Not strange at all. You can’t help but root for the kid.”

Leorio raises his mug of coffee to take a long sip.

“But what was that bit right at the end?” Gon asks. “I know steroids and nutrition and all that, but that part about kangaroos?”

Leorio puts down the mug.

“Oh, kangaroo care?” Leorio smiles. “Kind of a silly name, but it’s shockingly effective. It’s often a recommended treatment for caregivers to hold sick or premature babies as much as possible. Skin to skin contact is best, and the earlier you start and longer you keep it up, the better the outcome. A lot of hospitals have parents do nothing but hold their babies for an hour right after birth.”

“So it’s just... holding a baby a lot?” Gon asks. “As a medical treatment? That’s it?”

“At its core, more or less. Doesn’t sound like it would do much, really. But the results are overwhelming--babies who are held gain weight faster, meet milestones earlier, even have better oxygen saturation in their blood. So it’s not just anecdotal; there are real, concrete, measurable effects to physical touch.”

“Weird,” Gon says. “But cool. It really makes that big of a difference?”

“It makes an enormous difference,” Leorio says, gesticulating with his fork the way he does when he gets really engrossed in a medical explanation. “Even past infancy, children who receive regular physical affection from a caregiver are, on the whole, much happier and healthier. I think we should start viewing physical touch as being as integral to a child’s development and things like adequate nutrition and exercise and vaccinations and whatnot. It’s not even a matter of opinion at this point. It’s a medical fact; children need physical affection, plain and simple.”

_ “It’s a medical fact; children need physical affection, plain and simple.” _

With a sudden and overwhelming clench in his chest, Gon’s mind, strangely, goes immediately to Killua.

(Strangely, as if there is ever a moment Gon’s mind doesn’t go to Killua.)

And Gon just can’t help but think that Killua certainly wasn’t touched much growing up; he’s sure of it, knowing what he does about Killua’s family. No one held him when he was crying, or stroked his hair when he was laid up in bed ill, or traced gentle patterns on his back as he watched a television show. Gon’s childhood was filled with affection. Aunt Mito and Abe hugged and kissed and held him for as long as he could remember. But not Killua.

No, Killua was force fed poison and then left to vomit and shake and sweat alone. Killua was tied down screaming and electrocuted in the utterly deranged name of training. Killua was burned and beaten and broken, over and over and over, for years. Killua was only ever touched with the intent to hurt.

It makes Gon sick to his stomach. Gon’s not stupid; he’s noticed the way Killua jumps when Gon tries to get his attention with a hand on his shoulder, or the way he stiffens on the few occasions Gon’s attempted to pull hm into an embrace. But he hasn’t really allowed himself to dwell on it, to acknowledge, fully, that Killua’s come to associate touch with nothing but pain. And from what Leorio’s telling him now, that’s an even worse upbringing than Gon had imagined.

“Let’s say a person wasn’t touched very much as a kid,” Gon says, trying not to sound as desperate as he feels. “If they were touched when they were older, would that, I don’t know, reverse the effects of not having any affection when they were young?”

Leorio chews a bite of hash browns contemplatively.

“I wouldn’t say it would undo the effects of their childhood. You can’t really turn back time like that. But physical touch is just as important to adults as it is to kids. We overlook it, but it’s incredibly powerful. I recommend that my sickest patients, the ones with ongoing, incurable, particularly painful illnesses, try to get massages. It sounds silly. If modern medicine and Nen can’t fix what they’ve got, what good could a back rub really do? But it’s actually amazing. Being touched releases all sorts of hormones that are really good for you. Sometimes, when there’s nothing else to be done, something as simple as physical touch works wonders.”

“I see,” Gon says.

Leorio’s eyes narrow in a keen, knowing way.

“You wouldn’t happen to be asking for any particular reason? For any particular person?”

“No!” Gon says hurriedly. “Of course not. I’m just curious. You know, from a medical perspective.”

“Right,” Leorio says slowly. “From a medical perspective.”

He takes another bite of potatoes, not breaking eye contact with Gon.

* * *

The thoughts of Killua plague Gon for the rest of the day. He thinks back on his own childhood, on all the times he was comforted and soothed. Waking up with a nightmare and crawling into bed with Aunt Mito, having her gently stroke his hair until he fell back asleep again. The long, tight hugs she’d give him when he was frightened or sad. The kisses she’d press to his forehead when he’d come home after a bad day. Gon had never really reflected on it before, but he was surrounded by so much affection growing up. And, of course, Killua wasn’t.

No, Gon’s certain that for every gentle touch he’d received, Killua had been hurt at least a dozen times over. For every time Gon had had his hair ruffled, Killua no doubt had retched from the pain of broken bones. For each time Aunt Mito had given his hand a squeeze, Killua must’ve had several fingernails torn out, swift and bloody. It leaves such a painful, gaping wound in Gon’s chest, to imagine that Killua only ever knew touch as something that hurt.

Gon has to do something about it. He knows he does. And Killua most likely will resist. Gon will try to stroke his hair and Killua will snap about what an idiot he’s being. Or Gon will simply rest his feet in Killua lap and Killua will shove him off and gripe that he’s not a footstool. Killua will bristle and protest and sneer and Gon can’t blame him, not when he’s so used to pain following whenever someone touched him. But still, Gon has to try. He has to find an opportunity, to try to give Killua even a fraction of the kindness he was denied as a child.

The moment arises that evening, when the two of them are sitting on the couch of their Yorknew hostel, side by side, watching some stupid game show on television. Killua is maybe a foot away from Gon, sitting on the couch, looking oddly small and fragile in the bluish glow of the television. He’s quite clearly keeping his distance from Gon, his limbs tucked in tight to his body, as if there’s an invisible line between the two of them. A line Killua wouldn’t dare cross.

Gon’s heart, oddly, begins to pound. It’s silly--he’s stared down death more times that he can count. Touching Killua shouldn’t frighten him. But somehow, it feels there’s  _ more  _ at stake here than his life. Somehow, this feels far more important than any battle he’s ever fought.

Gon doesn’t move. He clenches his hands tight into fists. Takes a breath. He’s not a coward. He isn’t. He can do it. He can reach out and wrap an arm around Killua. There’s nothing to lose, not really. Nothing more than an elusive, intangible, important  _ something  _ Gon feels hanging in the air between them. Nothing more than the tension that beats in time with Gon’s heart.

_ Come on. Just do it. It isn’t hard. Now. _

Without giving himself the time to talk himself out of it, Gon scoots closer to Killua and wraps an arm around his shoulder in one swift movement, pulling him close to his side.

Immediately, Killua stiffens.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Gon can’t back out now. He has to push forward, headfirst, just like he always has.

“I just wanted to hold you,” he says, before he can think better of it.

“ _ What? _ ”

Gon takes a deep breath. Braces himself.

“Do you mind?” he asks.

Killua hesitates for just a moment. The tension between the two of them pulses harder.

“It’s just kind of weird, that’s all.”

“Well, do you want me to stop?”

Killua is quiet for a long moment. Gon doesn’t dare breathe, simply counts as the seconds drag on and on, until at last, Killua sighs.

“It’s whatever. You’re just going to do what you want to do anyway.”

It’s not quite a victory, not with Killua sitting ramrod straight and Gon’s arm wrapped around him at an awkward angle given the stiffness of Killua’s body, but it’s something.

For a few long moments, they’re utterly still and silent. It feels very significant somehow, like winning the trust of a wild animal, like the slightest wrong move would spook him. Gon doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move.

And then, after a few long, tense minutes of their awkward, stiff position, Killua finally relaxes. Very slowly, as if unsure he’s allowed it, as if giving Gon every chance to refuse, Killua leans up against Gon’s side, resting his head on Gon’s shoulder and curling up closer to him.

The strangest fuzzy, light, buoyant feeling expands in Gon’s insides. Killua feels so  _ good _ wrapped up in his arms, his body very solid and warm and heavy in the perfect, comforting way of a thick blanket. Gon feels warm and oddly floaty, equal parts relaxed and exhilarated.

He’s holding Killua. Killua, of all people, is permitting Gon to pull him tighter and give him a slight squeeze. Killua is sighing, just barely audible, and relaxing so fully against Gon’s side. Killua is now leaning heavier and heavier against Gon, as if chasing the warmth and comfort. Killua is feeling safe and cared for, Gon hopes, wrapped in his arms.

If Gon had to choose one moment to live out for eternity, just one moment for the rest of his life, surely this would be it. Surely he would choose Killua in his arms. Gon’s felt joy before, certainly, but nothing like this. Nothing so all-consuming and indescribable and wonderful. Nothing that radiates so powerfully across every inch of his skin.

Gon doesn’t know how long the two of them sit there, Killua in his arms, before Killua’s breathing becomes slow and even. He’s asleep. Killua fell asleep as Gon held him. It’s a triumph and a gift and a marvel all at once, Killua asleep in Gon’s arms, looking so relaxed and peaceful and content that Gon can hardly bear it.

And finally, because Killua isn’t going to know and because he’s wanted to for years now and because he just can’t resist even a single moment longer, Gon leans down and presses a kiss to Killua’s hair.

_ I’ll make it up,  _ Gon thinks fiercely, his lips pressed to Killua’s hair.  _ All the affection you were denied as a child. All the kindness and gentleness and love. I’ll make it up and then some. I swear, Killua. I’ll make it up. I swear. _

**Author's Note:**

> bolo for more bad things happen fics on the way!!!! i'm trying to give each one a lot of time & attention, so it's taking a bit to get them all done, but i'm doing my best!!!!
> 
> other than that, the usual. many thanks for reading, deeply treasuring & replying to comments, available to scream about hxh via [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/). xo


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